"I'm not responsible for what he thinks!"
Clay glanced at her. "He now thinks different."
"You—you didn't hit him, did you?"
Clay shook his head. "Felt like it, though."
"That's...men can be so stupid."
"You didn't think it was stupid when you looked around for help."
"I didn't..." But she had, hadn't she? "I could have handled the situation. You didn't need to get all huffy."
"What did you expect me to do?"
"I expected you to leave your harem and drive me home!"
He laughed, which infuriated Autumn.
"For all I knew, you were going to abandon me for Jackie Dutton!"
"I'd never abandon you, Autumn." He used the same tone of voice he'd use to say, "The sun will rise in the east," and it fueled her frustration.
"Right. I'm your responsibility. Part of your sacred trust."
"That's one way of looking at it."
"That's the way you look at it," she accused him.
He was very quiet. "I kinda thought that's the way it was."
"Everybody thinks that! But nobody asks me how I feel!"
"So how do you feel?"
"Trapped!"
The word hung between them.
"I don't see why," Clay said at last.
"Because you apparently like having your whole life mapped out for you. I don't."
"Autumn, you've pretty much gone your own way."
She closed her eyes, about to mention the unmentionable—the night when everything changed. "I'm still in school. Afterward, well...you heard our fathers talking that night. I know you did."
He hesitated before admitting, "Yeah, I heard."
He apparently had nothing to add, so Autumn continued. "Ever since, it's been assumed that I, that we..." She gestured.
"And I don't like being taken for granted."
"Neither do I."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you want to look around and see if you can find someone you like better, and if not, well then, there's always Clay."
"I have never thought that."
"Haven't you?"
She had thought that, she realized. But she wouldn't anymore. "No. But it would be perfectly understandable if I had. You go around talking about responsibility and sacred trusts like I'm...like I'm one of your livestock!"
Clay took his foot off the accelerator. As the pickup slowed, he steered it to the shoulder of the road.
Autumn looked at the gas gauge, but it was more than half-full. No ominous red lights blinked on the dash. "What are you doing?"
The tires crunched on the gravel and the truck bumped onto the grassy shoulder. "Something I've been wanting to do since I was seventeen years old."
He jammed the gears into park so fast, the truck lurched forward. Autumn reached for the pig to keep it from sliding to the floor.
Clay reached for her.
One of his hands cupped the back of her head and the other gripped her shoulder as he hauled her to him and kissed her. Hard.
No tentative exploration, no gradual buildup, but a flat-out, fully passionate, no-holds-barred kiss.
Clay was kissing her! Surprise held Autumn immobile and was the only emotion she felt at first. She didn't know what to think, but thinking didn't appear to be required of her, which was a good thing.
This was nothing like a first kiss—or a first adult kiss. She and Clay had kissed once before when they were ten and decided it was nothing special.
Things had changed since Autumn was ten.
Clay had changed.
Her initial surprise faded and she was beginning to enjoy the feel of his hand holding her insistently to him, when he broke the kiss as quickly as he'd begun it.
"Clay..." Autumn hardly knew what to say. But he'd only stopped so he could remove his seat belt and shoulder restraint. She heard it slither as it retracted. "Clay...!"
He took full advantage of her open mouth. Autumn felt his tongue meet hers, felt his arms enfold her.
There were times in ranching that called for quick decisions, decisive actions and no second thoughts. Clay had obviously decided to kiss her and was putting everything he had into the kiss. For several minutes, Autumn could only absorb the intensity of it. She was reminded of getting caught in a hard summer shower when she was out in a field with no shelter.
And there was no shelter from Clay's kiss—for either of them. He was revealing a depth of emotion that Autumn had never suspected he was capable of. There was no way this kiss could be mistaken for a kiss between friends, even very good friends.
This was a kiss for lovers.
Clay as a lover? That was...maybe not ridiculous, but certainly not plausib—not something she should rule out until she'd had time to think about it. Oddly, with all the thoughts of marriage over the years, Autumn had not considered Clay as a lover. Even now, she was still frozen with astonishment.
And Clay was apparently determined to melt her.
He'd gentled the initial force of his kiss, pulling her closer to him, nibbling at her still-parted lips with his.
"Autumn," he breathed, "get rid of the pig."
She was still clutching the brass pig on her lap. The headlights of an oncoming vehicle illuminated Clay's face on one side, but it was enough to show the desire in his eyes. This was the Clay who'd looked at her at the Yellow Rose.
Her heart beat faster and she gripped the pig as though it could protect her. But she wasn't sure if she needed protecting more from Clay, or from herself.
As a large truck roared past, it shook the pickup. "I like this pig." Autumn's voice sounded small.
He released her seat belt. "It's going to get in the way when you kiss me."
She swallowed. "But I'm not going to kiss you." She was afraid of what she might feel when she kissed him.
He touched her cheek with a hand that was both gentle and strong. "I kissed you."
She heard the rough vulnerability in his voice. It was true that their kiss had been one-sided, and in all fairness, she shouldn't reject him before she'd at least tried kissing him back.
Slowly, Autumn wound her arms around his shoulders, feeling their strength. She lifted her mouth, gently urging him toward her. Their lips barely touched, but hers still tingled from his earlier kiss.
Or...was that a new tingling?
Autumn moved her hand to his neck and drew his head closer to hers, gradually increasing the pressure. Deep within her, she felt the stirrings of a response, like the far-off rumble of a flash flood.
Autumn moved closer. As though from a great distance, she heard the pig hit the floor.
And the flood arrived.
It washed away everything she'd ever thought or felt about Clay, as well as her common sense. That was the only explanation she had for kissing him with such sudden abandon.
"You're driving me insane," Clay muttered, then kissed her throat. "We've wasted so many years. You're mine. You always have been."
At his words, Autumn's sense of self-preservation kicked in.
That hadn't been a kiss—it had been a branding.
She pushed back, breathing hard. ‘‘I’m nobody's."
He was breathing equally hard. "You can't kiss a man like that unless there's some feeling behind it."
Autumn wasn't ready to admit anything. "Did you ever think the feeling might be fear?"
"No."
"Why not? I'm alone in the truck with you out in the middle of nowhere, miles from home and you...you kissed me."
"I thought it was time you were kissed." He brushed his finger across her lips.
"What about what I thought?" Autumn demanded, ignoring the way her nerves jumped at his lazy caress.
"You kissed me back."
"Well...well, that's because I didn't have a choice."
"And that is my whole point." Clay reached across for her seat belt and refastened it. "Some things are just meant to be." He loo
ked at her. "Why not stop wasting the time of those poor fellas you were matched with at the Yellow Rose and come to the Buyers' Ball with me?"
"Wasting time?" Autumn thought she would explode. "Oh, so Autumn's played around the pasture enough and it's time to rope her in?"
Clay exhaled heavily. "You are the most infuriating woman. When will you see reason?"
"I see that I am still stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bully of a cattleman."
And did Clay apologize? No.
He kissed her again.
CHAPTER SIX
FACSIMILE
To: Nellie Barnett, G B Ranch
From: Debra Reese, R. Ranch
I assume you've heard about last night. What was
Clay thinking? You'd better talk to him.
Debra
FAX
To: Debra Reese, Reese Ranch From: Nellie Barnett, Golden B Ranch What Clay was thinking was what everyone else is thinking—just why did Morgan Dooley shell out five thousand dollars on behalf of Autumn? Debra, with only Autumn's best interests at heart, I must tell you that there is a name for a woman who can be bought, no matter how high the price .
Cordially, Nellie
Clay supposed he should feel bad about kissing Autumn, but he didn't.
Sure, she carried on as though she hated him now, but at least she felt something for him. From where he stood, that was an improvement.
He felt like whistling as he strode into the kitchen for breakfast, but his whistling had never sounded like much and it made the dog howl besides.
As on most mornings, he had a choice of fixing something for himself in the smaller family kitchen or heading out to eat with the hands. Or both, depending on how long a day he planned to put in.
He'd stayed up until three this morning, checking for cows that were acting like they might be ready to calve, and was heading out to relieve the hands who hadn't slept yet.
Later this afternoon, he was fixing to go back into San Antonio to start assembling the pens and building the show stage for the auction. Since everyone volunteering for the rodeo was expected to help, he fully expected Autumn to put in an appearance, as well.
And knowing Autumn, she would be dragging along the poor fellow from the Yellow Rose.
He opened the refrigerator. That was one stubborn female.
He knew she didn't like to be compared to an unbroken colt, but that was how he thought of her. She wasn't ready to submit to the bridle yet.
Eggs. He felt like having a big mess of eggs and hang the cholesterol. And he didn't want Cookie's eggs, which usually had pieces of shell in them that made a person think he'd chipped a tooth.
Well, if Autumn was going to bring someone to the work party, then so was he. After all, she had kissed him back, and it was the sweetest kiss he'd ever had, too. He remembered the exact instant when her lips trembled and he'd known she was tapping into the feelings that flowed between them.
It had scared her. Heck, it had scared him at first, too. So he'd let her have this last rebellion because when she'd had a chance to think, he knew she'd see things his way.
On that thought, Clay cracked an egg into the iron skillet.
And then he had to fish out a piece of shell.
"Autumn, people are talking." Debra cleared a place on the bookshelves in the den and set Autumn's brass pig in the spot.
Autumn was on her way through the den to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee before leaving for work. Anticipating Debra's comment, or a variation of it, she had purposely left too little time for a mother-daughter talk.
She dropped her coat and purse on the chair by the front door. "I'm not surprised. They're probably just jealous that my committee won." Stressing the winning part would appeal to her mother's pride.
"It's the way your committee won that they're talking about." Debra stepped back to admire the pig, then pulled a soft cloth from her work apron and wiped at it. "Autumn, did you know there's a dent in the pig?"
Fortunately, her back was to her mother as Autumn walked into the kitchen. She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping her voice casual. "I dropped it on the floor of Clay's truck."
"Oh, Autumn," her mother fretted. "You should be more careful."
Right. Autumn's hand shook as she poured herself a mug of coffee. Her hands had shaken last night, too. Her whole body had shaken last night. Even her head, where her thoughts had whirled and refused to settle until very late—or very early, depending on the point of view.
"People are wondering just exactly what's between you and Morgan Dooley."
Autumn jumped and spilled her coffee. Her mother had materialized right by her elbow. "Nothing is between me and Morgan Dooley," she said as she dabbed up the spill.
"Just like nothing is between you and Clay?" her mother asked.
Autumn was very glad she was kneeling on the floor and not looking at Debra. "No. Clay and I have f-friendship between us." She stumbled over the word. "Morgan and I have nothing more than an afternoon spent barbecuing ribs."
"And five thousand dollars."
Autumn stood and rinsed out the sponge. "You know what I think? I think Morgan wanted the attention. The sales teams spent all month raising money and having meetings, then he walks in and plops a big old check on the table."
"But it was your table he plopped it on."
"There were eight of us sitting there at the time." Autumn opened the cabinet and looked at the selection of cereals before deciding against eating.
Her mother eyed her closely. "Then why did Clay feel compelled to threaten him?"
"Maybe Clay is a sore loser. Who knows why he does what he does?"
Debra's eyebrows rose.
"Look, Mom, I've got to go into work early today so I can help set the auction up this afternoon. I won't be home until late."
"Be sure and let Clay follow you home."
"Mother."
"Sorry," her mother said with a faint smile. "It's just a habit."
Autumn dumped her coffee into a travel mug and snapped on the lid. "Why don't you get a ride in with Clay and come help us set up?"
Debra gestured to the kitchen table, which, along with the chairs, was pushed to the side by the bay window. A gallon of white paint was on the counter. "Today is a good day to paint."
Autumn tried to imagine the kitchen white and couldn't. It had been yellow her entire life. "I feel guilty about leaving you to paint by yourself."
Debra smiled one of her all-knowing mother smiles. "If that's all you have to feel guilty about, then go and have a good time."
Her mother must know something had happened. Maybe. It was hard to tell what she was thinking these days. Autumn left for work and considered herself lucky to have made the escape.
All the way into San Antonio, she thought about facing everyone again. Surely Morgan wouldn't be at the work party.
But Clay would.
What was she supposed to say to Clay? After that kiss, Clay wasn't Clay anymore. He was a man—a man who made her very aware that she was a woman. She'd relived their kiss—what she could remember of it—and had tried to make sense of her feelings.
She'd finally decided that she was just surprised and confused. Anyone who'd been kissed senseless would be.
What she had to remember was Clay's arrogance. Yes, he still assumed that she'd eventually marry him, and in the meantime, he was humoring her.
If there was anything Autumn hated, it was being humored.
He assumed too much. He probably thought she'd melt all over him when they saw each other this afternoon. Then he'd gloat about being right. But he wasn't right, and she was. going to prove it to him.
Autumn smiled. When she saw Clay this afternoon, it would be on the arm of Yellow Rose match number three.
Garth Rivers was in town for the rodeo and had reactivated his Yellow Rose file. He said he didn't mind the short notice Autumn gave him because he had a year's worth of women to meet in two weeks.<
br />
That didn't strike Autumn as being very promising, but she was only looking for someone to send a message to Clay—and Morgan, too, should he be so foolish as to show up.
Garth was one of a group of adults chaperoning the students in San Antonio who were showing their animals at the livestock exhibition. He'd graciously offered to "pound a few nails", then stay on for the catered barbecue afterward. This time of year, Autumn overdosed on barbecue, but it seemed un-Texan not to.
After work, Autumn changed into an older pair of jeans, then drove to the Coliseum. Horse trailers, livestock trucks and motor homes were already filling the parking lot and would remain there for the two weeks of the rodeo. She had gotten a map showing the area his group had been assigned. Autumn parked her Bronco and looked for the license plate of the motor home Garth was using.
He'd protested her coming to get him, but Autumn wanted him with her when she went to the meeting before the actual work began. There was only one motor home among the horse trailers in section E-4, and Autumn headed toward it, picking her way over mud splatters, bits of straw and other animal debris.
She heard a strikingly deep male voice giving good-natured orders to a group of teens and preteens as they unloaded their animals.
"Garth!" a girl cried. "He's getting away!"
"Hang on to the rope!"
Autumn saw a potbellied pig try to escape, causing general laughter. Grinning, she stepped around a horse trailer and saw the owner of the deep voice reattaching the lead to the pig.
All Autumn could do was stare. It was as if Hollywood had collided with the heart of Texas and Garth was the result.
The man was too handsome to be a cowboy was Autumn's first thought. Dressed from hat to boots all in black, with impossibly white teeth, a strong jaw and a wicked grin, he was a fantasy come to life.
He couldn't be more perfect if he'd been made to order. This man would dazzle the gossip right out of the women on the Swine Auction Committee.
Garth patted the pig and stood. One of the youths said something to him and he glanced over at her. "Autumn Reese?"
She nodded, finding it difficult to speak now that his identity had been confirmed and she realized he was, indeed, match number three.
Hand-Picked Husband Page 8
